


Protocol

by sunnyamazing



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyamazing/pseuds/sunnyamazing
Summary: The Right Honourable Julia Montague MP doesn’t have emotions, they aren’t allowed.Protocol prevents them."Thank you, Sergeant. Have a good evening."But if she was allowed emotions, what would she be thinking about?





	Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Laura, I'm new. Not new to fanfic writing, but new to Bodyguard. I binge watched the entire show four days ago and this is all I have been able to think of. I don't know why this scene is the one I wrote, I don't even think it is my favourite, but it is the one that kept running around in my head. I also don't know if someone has written something similar, if so, well, here is my take!

> ** _Protocol, _ **
> 
> _ noun,_
> 
> _ the official procedure or system of rules governing affairs of state or diplomatic occasions._

She stares at the back of his head as they move quickly down the Blackwood hotel hallway. He nods a few times at the respective others whose job it is to keep her safe but that is all he does. He has barely said anything to her since he came to collect her from the Home Office, she actually doesn’t even know when he left her.

He was there when she arrived at her office and then while she wasn’t looking, he must have gone. She had only realised when she stared out from her glass box and met eyes that weren’t his. They were kind eyes, but they weren’t _his_. 

She doesn’t know where he went, but she senses that something is off. He’s not impolite, he’s not lacking ability to do his job in any way, but there is just something. He doesn’t seem to be the same man she crazily decided that she needed to kiss in the loo before setting off for work this morning. 

Her eyes study his back intently as he strides in front of her, his pace seems faster than usual. He doesn’t seem to want to linger, to take any extra time to complete the task of seeing her to her room as a good PPO should do.

They reach her door and without turning to face her, “one moment, please,” he tells her as he opens the door and strides inside. She steps in after him and the door clicks shut behind them, they are alone now, still he says nothing to her. He simply moves around the spacious suite, checking for security threats as he is paid to do. 

She can hear him shuffling around; being the good PPO that he is, despite whatever else they’ve done, what she told him this morning is still true, she knows that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. 

She places her bag and the red ministerial case down on the floor, one on either side of her, and then waits for him to finish. She doesn’t hurry him along, or act like the total cow she once was towards him. She just waits, she waits in the small alcove between the door and the rest of the room, each of her hands in her trouser pockets.

After a few moments he returns to stand in front of her, “all clear ma’am,” is all he says to her, in his professional voice, no hint of emotion. He takes a few steps closer to her and then stops and she decides that she has to ask him what on earth has made him behave in this way.

“Is anything the matter?” she questions, her tone is firm, but it isn’t the tone she uses as the Home Secretary, but the tone that she has lately found herself speaking to him in and she thinks maybe him alone. Her hands are still in her pockets, her head is slightly tilted to the side.

“No,” is his stilted reply, another one-word answer leaves his lips.

She won’t lie, she wants to know what has made him behave in this way and she wonders if it is something about his family, the idea that they are still in danger because of his role in the 1st of October rail attack. “The family’s still not back home?” she questions him, her head straightening towards him.

“The safe house has been extended.” He begins, his head nods up and down as their eyes meet. “There’s no other option really, with everyone, in the dark about whether they’re still a target,” he continues and his eyes leave hers as he looks towards the wall beside her, for just a few seconds before his gaze comes back to look at her.

It is her turn to look away now, she tilts her head forward and her body follows, she stares down at her shoes, “well you can always come to me.” She tells him and as she finishes her sentence her eyes look back at him.

He almost looks at her confusedly, “that would be asking you to circumvent security protocol.” He replies to her with a few shakes of his head. 

She sighs deeply as she hears that word, she knows they’ve gone way past protocol now.

Surely, he knows they’ve gone way past protocol now.

Is it protocol to have described yourself as _not _the Queen and given someone the hint that they are allowed to touch you? No.

Is it protocol to have a few days later, opened an adjoining hotel room door to have sex with your Principal Protection Officer for a second time after your near-death experience? No.

Is it protocol to have spent the previous night wrapped in the same PPO’s arms? Still no.

Is it protocol to have done any of the things she and he have done recently? Also no.

They’ve gone way past protocol now. 

Even he must know that.

“Protocol,” she says out loud as she removes her hands from her pockets and reaches down for the bag and case beside her. She makes a scoff as her fingers wrap around the two items and she stands up straight, moving more into the room. “It’s your family,” she tells him as she steps to the side, moving past him, her heels clicking on the hotel room floor beneath her as she walks.

She drops the case down beside her again, it makes a small noise and she can feel that he is looking at her, she places her bag down on top and then straightens to face him.

“None of the code words retrospectively associated with your family,” she begins to explain, her voice slightly more political sounding, even though her hands are in her pockets again, “have been detected in communications with other cells on the watch list.” He shuffles on the spot as she speaks, as their eyes meet once more. 

“That’s good to know.” He replies at her, his eyes leave hers and he nods his head, “thank you,” he adds as he then returns to stare at her, his blue eyes piercing into hers. But still he doesn’t _say_ anything else, doesn’t _do_ anything else.

She stares at him for a moment, telling him those facts about his family, that was certainly breaking protocol too. Her head is tilted to one side, she’d thought that maybe telling him that would have made his demeanour change towards her, back towards the David she had woken up next to this morning. But no, still _nothing_.

“Is there something more?” she questions him carefully, blinking a few times as she does.

“No,” is his reply, another one-word answer.

“You’re sure?” she asks, her voice shaking a little as she does so. 

He doesn’t speak for a few seconds and she begins to wonder if he is actually going to tell her what he has been thinking about or if he is going to make something up, or even say nothing. But eventually he speaks. “You wouldn’t personally have dealt with my son’s change of school. Not worth the risk,” he begins, he continues his pattern of looking away from her when he speaks and then turning his attention back to her as he pauses, his eyes searching hers.

She knows he isn’t lying, this has been what is on his mind, it’s the same conversation he’d been trying to have before someone decided they’d needed to shoot Terry dead in front of her and then attempt again to do the same to her and to David. She almost senses what he is going to ask her next and she wonders where he went earlier today to put these ideas back inside his head.

Both of his eyebrows raise towards her, “are you sure that’s how you knew the name?” he questions. 

There it is, the question he wants an answer to, an answer she really cannot give. She feels her pulse begin to race slightly, but is still able to hide it as best she can, years of practice, she isn’t the Home Secretary because she _lacks _skills. She is the Home Secretary because she has _many _skills, being able to hide her emotions most of the time is one of them.

The Right Honourable Julia Montague MP doesn’t have emotions, they aren’t allowed.

Protocol prevents them.

She looks down and away from him, this is one question she really cannot answer. The fact that she knew of Heath Bank’s possible impending threat is something she cannot tell him. No matter how far past protocol they’ve already come.

“I’m tired,” she says quietly, towards the floor. Before she turns back to him, “I’ve got a shitload of work to do.” She tells him and then moves with one step towards the door, closing her fingers around the handle and she sighs as she pulls the door open.

She looks down at the floor for a moment, before she remembers herself and throws her head back, her curls tickling the nape of her neck as she does so. “Thank you, Sergeant,” she says firmly, loud enough for the officer outside to hear. “Have a good evening,” she adds, in a slightly less firm tone.

He doesn’t move, or say anything for another few seconds, he remains stationary, she can see him in her peripheral vision, he stands rigid still. Barely moving. But then he speaks, another one solitary word, “ma’am,” is all he says and then he strides out past her, his eyes firmly focused on what is in front of him, he doesn’t deviate to look at her.

She turns to watch him go, just at the last second and then he is gone. She closes the door behind him and then she is alone.

She turns back to face the now empty hotel room as she hears the faint sound of his door opening and then shutting determinedly behind him. She runs one of her hands through the bottom of her hair, as her hand trembles slightly, she doesn’t like being alone at the moment.

She steps forward and shuffles out of her grey coat, laying it over one of the chairs next to her, she stares towards the locked adjoining door. She contemplates going over there, unlocking and opening the door and telling him that she can’t believe he quoted the word protocol at her as a reason for him to not ask her to do something. That protocol hasn’t already been broken over and over again. 

She wants to go and tell him to go and screw himself for being so abrasive with her, but there is also another option, maybe she just wants to tell him to screw her instead.

Screw her, until she forgets that Terry is dead because of a bullet that was meant for her, screw her, until her being covered in blood and trembling is the not the only thing she sees when she closes her eyes, screw her, so she doesn’t have to be alone in this room, because it seems she doesn’t like being alone, not lately. 

She takes a few steps forward, slipping her heels off her feet carefully. But before she reaches the door, she is distracted by the sound of her phone, not her official government phone but her other one. She sighs as she sees the sender, _HD_. 

_Material en route, prepare to expect company. Clearance secured. _

She turns back to where she left her heels, she places the phone in her pocket and reaches down for her shoes, sliding each of her feet back into their enclosed confine.

Company is coming.

The material she has been waiting for is coming.

The material is coming to see the Home Secretary. 

The material is not coming to some unable to look after herself mess.

She is the Home Secretary. 

The Right Honourable Julia Montague MP.

She is not some unable to look after herself mess.

Protocol dictates that she must look like the Home Secretary. 

Protocol dictates that she must act like the Home Secretary.

She is the Home Secretary.

So tonight, despite so much of it already being broken, protocol wins.

And even hours later, when the material is in her hands and the scandalous past of the Prime Minister is finally being revealed to her, and her head turns towards his room to see if she can hear him in the room beside her, protocol wins.

Protocol still wins.

For now, protocol still wins.

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you made it this far, do I stay and post more things? Not this, because this is done, but similar to this? I'd love to know!
> 
> Also if you've twitter or tumblr, come and find me @sunnyamazing :)


End file.
